The Debt Unpaid
by valiasedai
Summary: As they return to Ostagar, Lani Brosca has a single-minded task: see Duncan put to rest. Rated T for violence.


The snow crunched beneath boots as Lani slowly stalked onto the battlefield, weapon at the ready, shield held tightly against her torso. The others followed behind her, all of them on the edge. It was so quiet, the snow so deep that evidence of Loghain's treachery was almost hidden entirely. There was only one body she wished to find – it was not Cailan, hung and morbidly preserved on a darkspawn-tainted cross. She wanted nothing more than to put Duncan to rest. Cailan had been a fool, if a brave one, but Duncan was so much more. Brave, skilled, kind, disciplined and her own personal savior. She would see his body laid to rest properly. She _had _to – the debt she owed the man could never be repaid, but she had to _try_.

The hum of magic caught her ear, so low she could barely make it out. That weasely little genlock was at the far end of the field, a blackish-purple light pulsing around him. With a gesture he raised his hands and mostly-rotted corpses began to crawl out of the snow, their weapons whatever had been held in their hands when they were cut down. Most were men, but some were darkspawn, and near the emissary a great ogre began to rise, its cold flesh jerking in stiff, slow movements. The pale winter sun glinted off of two silvery spots in the ogres chest. Blood ran beneath the metal and as she squinted she could make out the hilts just enough to identify them, instantly knowing their owner. _Duncan_.

Blind rage filled her and she let out a wordless cry as she rushed towards the undead ogre. The rising corpses slashed at her and Zevran called her name, but she ignored the cuts and plea for caution. Cold air filled her lungs with fire and she closed the distance swiftly. The ogre caught sight of her, lifting an awkward arm to swing towards her. She dodged, cutting under and to the left, lashing out with her sword at the creature's chest. Her blade was reluctant to cut flesh that was so cold and unyielding and the force wrenched her shoulder. Ignoring the sudden flare of pain, she turned towards the ogre, dropping into a low crouch as she began to circle. The creature had turned towards her as well, the two of them eyeing the other, moving slowly. Each time the beast lashed out she was quick enough to dodge, but she needed _time_ to build up speed, time she didn't have. Throwing away her last scrap of caution, Lani tossed her shield aside, diving between the ogre's legs. It was enough to give her an edge, enough to sink her blade into the creature's spine. The thing let out a roar of frustration as it fell forward. As the massive creature rolled itself over with its heavily-muscled arms, Lani didn't waste a moment. Lunging forward, she ran across it's chest, her footing precarious and uneven, and with her last bit of balance she flung her weight into a swing of the sword, driving it into the creature's head. The thing twitched once before lying still.

Lifting her eyes to the genlock that had plagued them since arriving at Ostagar, Lani, moved her hands to Duncan's dagger and sword, pulling them out with a grunt of effort. The emissary gave her a grin as its hands once again glowed with magic dark and twisted. She was running again, Duncan's weapons in her hands, throwing away everything the branded warrior had taught her about caution and defense. His teachings had helped her prevail against those quicker, if less calculating, and now she was going to throw it all away.

A spell hit her, opening a wound in her side and she _felt_ the blood painfully draining as the genlock took it into himself, drawing strength from her weakness. Her steps faltered, her pace slowed, but she would _not_ be stopped.

Another blast of magic hit her, this one just as potent, and she prayed to the Stone for strength. Something was wrong, the spells were affecting her too much, the magic seeping into her and taking what it wanted with no resistance. Giving the genlock no time to cast again, she drove the sword and dagger into the creature's gut as she crashed into it, knocking both of them to the ground. It writhed around the blades as black blood gurgled from its mouth. Soulless eyes looked at her, the damnable grin leering up at her as if it _knew_.

Straddling the darkspawn she swung a fist at its head, her gauntlet connecting with a low crunch. Anger surged through her, blinding her to anything but her final goal. "Where is he?" She was screaming, hysterical as she clutched at the darkspawn's clothing, shaking it back and forth. "Where's Duncan?"

Something that sounded like a laugh escaped the creatures lips, heightening her fury, and she punched it again, this time breaking the thing's jaw. "_Where is he?_" Tears began to blind her vision, the genlock's face turning into a blur. A sob escaped her as she hit again and again, crying Duncan's name as she beat the thing to a bloody pulp.

Two sets of hands grabbed her arms and she began to thrash, kicking, fighting against whoever held her. A low voice met her ear, and she hesitated just enough for the two to pull her away. Tilting her head back she saw Sten and Alistair looming above her, the latter wearing a look of fear. Sten's face was less readable, but his violet eyes were wide and dark. Their hands slowly let go and it was then she realized the field was quiet, the corpses dead, the only sound the occasional caw of a carrion bird.

Lani closed her eyes and took a breath, pain welling in her chest. She was no closer to finding Duncan, no closer to putting him to whatever rest the top-siders felt suitable for the honored death. Letting out a mournful cry, Lani went limp, lying in the cold snow, crying out of grief and frustration at her own uselessness as she stared up at the sky. Her debt still remained.

* * *

Zevran eyed Lani warily and for the first time in his life he had no way to approach a woman. She was staring into the flames of the dead king's pyre, mouth hard, eyes red. The rest had let her cry until she was too weak to protest Wynne's healing, too drained to fight the long climb back to the king's body. She'd said little more than two or three words at a time, and even then only when it was necessary. Alistair seemed pleased that Cailan had been given a pyre, but Lani seemed _more_ bitter and hard because of it. She was standing away from the others, staring at the fire with a gaze that took in nothing.

Suppressing his apprehension, Zev slowly made his way to Lani, settling on standing next to her while he tried to think of something to say. Nothing came.

* * *

They were two days out of Ostagar and Lani had remained all but silent, her orders short and brutally simple. He and theothers were growing increasingly restless, all but Sten, who remained emotionless, and the assassin, who simply stayed near her side and said nothing.

The campfire burned low and Lani stared into it, just as she had stared at Cailan's pyre. Alistair still remembered the howl she'd let out when they'd pulled her off what was left of the emissary, the pure anguish that had been in her voice and her face. He hadn't thought Duncan had meant so much to her, not after the way she'd lead them as though nothing had happened. He though she hadn't understood how much Duncan had meant, but it was obvious he had been wrong. _Very,very wrong_. He'd caught her digging through the snow later that night with her bare hands, clawing through the icy crust until her hands were blue from cold and bleeding from dozens of tiny cuts. It had taken Sten to pull her away again and the giant had cradled her like a child while she cried. It was strange to see such tenderness from one so large, one so cold, but there had been an unmistakable gentleness in the way the qunari had held her.

Since that night she seemed to have regained her sanity, at least in action. They'd met darkspawn and she'd cut them down coldly, efficiently, back to using a sword and shield, her brief foray into dual-wielding over. She used Duncan's sword now, the dagger tucked in her belt, her former sword wrapped in the massive pack Shale carried, along with Cailan's armor and his father's sword. She was as formidable as ever, but she was _not_ the woman he'd wanted to court and kiss and...

Pushing aside those thoughts he cleared his throat, settling down near the fire. Lani made no movement or sound to acknowledge his presence, still staring into the fire. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Alistair took a deep breath and tried to sound calm. "Thank you." Cold blue eyes flicked to him. He shifted uncomfortably under the gaze and tried to smile. "For seeing Cailan properly laid to rest."

Tears glistened in her eyes and she shook her head, mouth twisting into frown. "Duncan deserved that more than your fool of a king." Her words were practically spat at him and she stood up, fists clenching. She stood, staring at him as tears began to run down her cheeks. Shaking her head, she let out a quiet whimper. "_Duncan_ was the better man."

With that she turned and marched to her tent, disappearing behind the flap without another word. Sighing to himself, Alistair closed his eyes and tried not to let her words sting. She'd been right that day in the forest – he didn't understand then and he understood less now.

As he stood up to go to sleep, a figure caught his eye. Zevran's eyes bored into him, his mouth curved into a frown. Alistair paused a moment, waiting for some sort of lecture or retort, but the elf said nothing.


End file.
